


Clocktower

by ImAGiraffacorn



Series: Mechtober 2020 [5]
Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: High noon over camelot, Mechtober, Mechtober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImAGiraffacorn/pseuds/ImAGiraffacorn
Summary: The first thing Mordred noticed about Camelot was the clocktower.
Series: Mechtober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988512
Kudos: 12





	Clocktower

The first thing Mordred noticed about Camelot was the clocktower.

It wasn’t particularly tall or intimidating, but it was well maintained and largely rust free, which made it stick out like a sore thumb. The clock face pointing towards the end of the sun indicated that it was one minute until noon.

That was good. Mordred had made good time over the last two days, and the sooner he could talk to someone ( _ see his father _ ), the better.

It had been twelve years since Arthur had ridden off into the rust with Guinevere and Lancelot to take Camelot. Twelve years since Arthur had knelt in front of Mordred and held him close. Twelve years since Ygraine hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes and tell him why his father was gone. Twelve years since he had seen any of his parents from before. Time was tricky, especially in Anwn, but it was nearly twelve years to the day since Morgan had first picked him up, eyes shrewd ( _ annoyed _ ), and decided he deserved to live.

He stopped his bike next to the tower as it began to rang, and paused. Mordred remembered the stories Gawain had told him of Camelot, but over time he had assumed that many were exaggerated or misremembered. Evidently, the ones about the clocktower were accurate. The ringing was more than just a sound. He could feel the echoes of the bell shaking him through to his core. He pulled his hat off, stuffing it into his pack before it flew off from the vibrations.

Stepping away from his bike, Mordred released a deep breath and scanned the small town. His father was here somewhere. Guinevere and Lancelot were here somewhere. Gawain might be here somewhere. And now he was here, and he could find them ( _ talk to them _ ).

“Hey!” A voice called over the tolling of the bell. “Hey!”

Mordred spun around, trying to pinpoint the voice. He locked eyes with a woman walking up from the town proper, and had to do a double take. It had been more than a decade since he had seen her ( _ he had been seven, how much could he trust his memories? _ ), but the woman before him was definitely Dinadan.

“Hey man. You can’t just ride in like that. You’ve gotta introduce yourself,” Dinadan said, gesturing down towards what Mordred had assumed was the town hall.

“I, uh-”

“Just leave the bike for now and follow me. You can come grab it after you present to the knights.”

“Sure, okay,” Mordred turned to look at his ride one last time, before following Dinadan into town.

He was here. He was about to present to the knights. He was about to see his father. He was finally on the path to bringing about the peace. He was, twelve years late, finally arriving at the great town.

Camelot. He was here.


End file.
